I may look wider than a barn door, but I am oh-so-cozy. I may even start wearing it inside the house. There were tons (like 50) left, marked down from $40. Colors were White, Black, Brown, and Blue. Thought I'd pass this along in case you need a little extra coziness today.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

So I’m just wondering, did you marry “your type?” If you are married, did you have a preconceived notion of what kind of guy you would end up with or whom you gravitated toward during your dating years? If so, did you marry that kind of guy? How have your expectations been different from reality?

I always figured I would marry a frat guy type. Gregarious, with a slight beer gut, loads of stories, and the ability to throw me over his shoulder at will in a “get over yourself, Anna” kind of way. The kind of guy who would lean you up against the cinder block wall in the fraternity party room and slur with a little beer on his breath, “Man, you’re soooo hot!” Not sure where I got this from, but it’s just an image that stuck in my head.

Tom does not fit this mold. He is shy and reserved; he is proper and straight-laced. I outweigh him easily within a few short weeks of becoming pregnant, so there hasn't been a lot of throwing over the shoulder around here.

He is definitely not a frat boy. In fact, until we got involved in our church, he had just a few male friends, and he is content to spend a weekend at home rather than going out golfing our hanging with the boys. He does not curse, tell raunchy stories, and I don’t believe he’s ever uttered the word “hot”in the “smokin’ hot” sense in his life.

I remember when an ex-boyfriend visited me in graduate school and spent some time with Tom and me. Later, he proclaimed, “I just don’t think Tom is an ‘Anna Maiden Name’ kind of guy.” He even sent me the comic you see at the top of this blog post as some sort of illustration.

Puh-leeze! I mean, what was that about? I was in love with Tom! He was handsome, sweet, thoughtful, and extremely smart. Whatever the ex was trying to do totally backfired. Did this guy not realize that I have never NOT rooted for the underdog in my life, and he had just made Tom into an Underdog?

Didn’t he realize no one puts Baby, I mean Anna, in a corner?! A comic that criticized Tom? Ha. That guy might as well have gone out and bought the ring and booked the reception hall himself, because his insult sent me farther into Tom’s cute arms.

I think the ex did manage to peg that Tom and I are different. Sometimes those differences have been easy to navigate, sometimes more difficult. But even though Tom and I are opposites on the Myers-Briggs scale, and he may initially not have seemed like an “Anna Maiden Name” kind of guy, he’s the one I married, and after 18 years together, there are a lot of reasons why it works.

I’m also a bit of a prude, so if anyone is going to be slightly risqué or raunchy in this family (by which I mean blogging about shooting one’s wad (of cash) or occasionally uttering the S-word) I’d prefer it to be me.

Also, Tom doesn’t schmooze, ever, so you are always getting the real deal. He might not be gregarious enough to be Pres of the IntraFraternity Council, but he is a loyal friend with great integrity. He is satisfied with our quiet life, and doesn’t care who knows whom, how much they make, or where they bought what. He also doesn’t get into gossip, which can be a bit of a bummer for me if I get in the mood, but it’s good not to have someone to feed off of.

Of course there are many reasons I love Tom, and certainly not just because he serves as a good foil for me. One of our old friends used to liken us to Dharma and Greg, which sort of implies I am a crystal-carrying ditz, but it does peg Tom as the mild-mannered type. I guess our friend just meant we complement each other well, and I believe that.

It also doesn’t hurt that he is H-O-T-T (lick finger, put it on your rear jeans pocket and insert sizzling sound here).

I could probably write a whole separate post for you on what I would suppose Tom’s “real type” is. I’ll take a quick stab at it here: a thin, doe-eyed, northerner with long, straight hair tucked under a baseball cap. Likes cooking, fine wine, the great outdoors, L.L. Bean and watching Planet Earth. Lives to cheer on her favorite sports teams and go to rock concerts. Prefers sex to sleep.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

So on Christmas Eve morning, before our annual Mexican lunch at Chevy’s, dropping cookies off for local firefighters, watching “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and going to church, Mom had a pity party.

I hadn’t slept well because I was disappointed and disgruntled. Tom and I had gone to pick up our new car (my first car ever with power windows!) just in time for Christmas. I pictured something like this, without the BMW part, of course.

After signing all the papers and paying, we took the keys and walked out to drive home. It was the wrong car. Crap. Weeks of deciding, and figuring and waiting--- for what? Of course on the way over I had told Tom very dramatically, “I am so sick of car shopping. If I have to go back to the dealer after tonight, I will poke my eyes out with a screwdriver.” Ooops.

So I tossed and turned, wondering when I’d ever get my new car. Wondering how we were going to cram the 4 of us PLUS THE DOG into a Volkswagen Jetta for our 5 hour trip to my sister’s. Picturing my feet scrunched up on the dash like they were for our Thanksgiving trip. Imagining blod clots and much pissed-off -ness by me.

I grumped around downstairs for a while then crawled back in bed to stew.

Then I noticed I had my period. Three days of fantasizing about a surprise after-40 pregnancy went up in smoke. The whole scenario of having teenagers and a toddler at the same time, with an unplanned (and therefore surely meant to be) child who would be easy, docile, and bring the whole family together just like a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie disappeared too.

When I finally got a grip and put on my big girl underwear (NOT panties, mind you) to start the day, Molly and I began baking. Seconds later, in her exuberance to point out something incredibly important (colorful sprinkles?), she clocked my in the left eye. Stinging tears, a possibly detached retina, and we kept on baking. It wasn’t exactly a screwdriver through the eye, but it wasn’t fun, either.

I thought I was hiding my grumpiness pretty well (unless the zits gave me away) until we got to Chevy’s. Molly announced to Tom and Jake, and anyone else in the parking lot, “Watch out. Mom’s grouchy because she has her period.”

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

(That's Peace, "Peace & Peace," or "& Peace Peace"...depending how you look at it. You get the idea)

Time with those dear to you:

...and something special under the tree:

And for those of you who are experiencing loss this season, for whom the decorations, lights, and even the music bring up memories both bitter and sweet, my wish turns into a prayer. An extra prayer of comfort for you.

Christmas shopping around here is…interesting. Jake is easy. He just chooses one expensive Lego set and we are done. Well, “done” if you don’t count the endless discussions of the Lego set’s merits, the intricacies of the design, etc. This goes on for weeks during which time you just may want to poke your own eardrums out with a sharp object. I am appalled that the cumulative price of all his Legos could bring relief to several small countries, but it certainly is simple to push the “Order” button at Lego.com.

Molly, who is more likely to play with an old Bandaid than her American Girl dolls, is not so easy. She is a creative spirit; she is unique. In the above picture she is playing with a gourd.

A mouseTickets to a Jonas Brothers’ ConcertNever to go to Home Depot Again?

She did not get her first two choices, but we did give her a fancy schmancy certificate freeing her from any/all future Home Depot trips. She was pleased. This year we realized we failed to put an expiration date on the Home Depot decree, so now we have to figure out a new gift.

“Well, I don’t know what to ask for because the one thing I really want I know you won’t get me.” Big sad eyes. “What is it?” I ask. “A King Charles Spaniel puppy.”

How right she is.

My problem is compounded by the fact that my sister just adopted a teeny tiny dog, whom we will meet at Christmas. She has a chocolate lab, too, and she is blowing my excuse that you can’t have a large dog and a small dog together. Thanks, L.

As I said, Molly is not easy to shop for. When she was 4 we got her the My Pretty Pony that talked and said things like, “Feed me, Mommy,” “I need my Pacifier,” and “I love you.” Ten minutes into it on Christmas morning, Molly declared, “This pony is too much work.” Back into the box it went. The nice thing is she doesn’t ask for video games, laptops, cell phones, or gadgets. The hard thing is that she pretty much asks for nothing.

I am at a loss. So I bought her this.

To me this is basically an Easy Bake Oven. You know, like the one I never got as a kid, but that I see lined up in multiples on the thrift store shelves every time I go shopping. I can imagine a mom’s delight when she tosses this honking piece of plastic into the donation bin, reclaiming prime real estate inside her home.

Yeah, this crayon maker has the potential to be used about 3 times if I’m lucky. Lots of plastic packaging, lots of plastic parts. Mucho environmental damage, and of that I am not proud.

But please do not judge. It’s December 21, and at least it’s not a puppy.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

I'm not much of a crafter at all because I just don't have much patience for the little details. When I saw this idea at Beneath My Heart, Traci assured her readers it would be easy, so I decided to try it.

I printed out initials in fonts that I liked, cut them to size, and glued them to the tiles using Mod Podge. A little Mod Podge on the top, let them dry, then sprayed the top with Acrylic Sealer. The final step was putting a thin piece of self-stick cork on the back so the tiles wouldn't scratch a table.

All of the supplies (except the tile) were at Michael's. This was the easiest, fastest, and least expensive craft I've ever done. Before I knew it I had coasters for my neighbors and friends from my small group.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

I know posting twice in one day might be a little over the top for me (it's feast or famine you know), but I simply must process the events of this evening.

Jake went to a Boy Scout event at a local church. The point was to introduce current Cub Scouts to the wonders of Boy Scouting, should they choose to move up next year. They played games and learned about scouts. Then they broke up into small groups, with a Group Leader (older boy) supposedly sharing what to expect.

Jake's group was led by a boy who claimed to be a vampire. After telling the kids he hated them, he said he was going to suck their blood. Then he proceeded to swear at them, using, as Jake said, "The S-word, The B-word, and the F-word." Nice.

Note to Boy Scouts of America: You may want to reconsider your choice of spokesperson. And here I thought Nike and Tag Heuer had a hard sell with Tiger Woods.

So I was at my annual checkup last week…no not the one with stirrups, the one where the HVAC guys check out the furnace. Anyway, heat exchanger something blah blah something something was cracked and now we’re out 12 grand.

So my gift is shiny and expensive, but not in the same way a piece of fine jewelry would be. When I told the kids we were getting a new furnace and air conditioner, Jake said, “Well, I guess we won't be getting new windows...and Europe’s definitely out.”

Friday, December 11, 2009

In an effort to not turn into Fred Sanford, I put some of my grandpa’s old furniture online to sell. Imagine my delight when my first customer pulled up today, reeking of smoke. I guess my point about the furniture having always been in a smoke-free home wasn’t what reeled him in.

He was a creepy, thin, middle aged white man, with glasses and a quiet demeanor. Why didn’t I just suggest a serial killer on my posting? I kept mentioning how the furnace guy was on his way and how Shadow had a very aggressive streak (as she tried to lick his face).

On a positive note, he had a pick-up truck, not a panel truck, and he didn't tell me I looked like I had soft skin. Anyway, he left and will decide later today whether he wants the furniture (which I’m pretty much giving away). In the event that I am not heard from again, please tell Tom that this guy’s cell phone # is in our phone, I have an email trail, and it’s been a really wonderful life.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

So, my Christmas plans have been a total disaster. The tree sits undecorated in the family room, my tiny trees on the front stoop blew a fuse and now the outlet won’t work, and the white candles in the windows are ancient history. Within 7 minutes of suction cupping (?) them to the windows around the house, they came crashing to the floor. “Bam!” From Molly’s room. “Smash!” from the kitchen. Nine broken bulbs in a row. Not remotely like Kristallnacht, but you get the picture.

Speaking of pictures, I’ve been desperate to take a family Christmas picture. We usually do it over Thanksgiving when my sister can take it (see red plaid family on red couch above). This year we wanted Shadow in the picture, so we had to do it at home.

Determined to check one measly thing off the to-do list, I roped in my 9 year old neighbor. She thought she was on an innocent play date with Molly until I handed her the camera and told her to start shooting. She got some good ones, but kept cutting off Tom’s head. He comes in at a towering 5’8" in shoes, which to a 4th grader must seem gigantic.

Anyway, getting 4 people and a dog to look good at one time proved a challenge, which leads me to today. I had to select which one would be our card photo. The power! The responsibility! There were two in which I looked pretty fabulous, but Tom was headless and the dog looked possessed by demons. The kids? Well this never was about the kids, was it?

We order our cards from Cost.co, where they are inexpensive and I can order a ton. But who wants a ton when you don’t look good? Hence my leeetle moral dilemma. Should I throw the rest of the family under the bus so I could look good? I blame my best friend for all of this. Years ago she told me how irritated she got when her married friends would send photos of just the kids. She wanted to see how her friends looked, too.

Well, I promised her Tom and I would be in the photos from then on. Nothing like giving everyone a yearly documentation of wrinkle encroachment. My friend is married with a child now, and let me tell you if I get a photo of just her daughter in the mail this year, she is cruising for a bruising.

So, I’m curious: WWBD (What Would Blogland Do)? Would you choose the fabulous picture of yourself, or would you sacrifice yourself for the greater good? I mean isn’t Mom the one doing the decorating, cleaning, shopping and wrapping? What about the mailing, schlepping and thank you note-ing? Shouldn’t she be the one who shines in the Christmas card photo?

Being the selfless person I am, I chose one where we only lost the very top of Tom’s hair, the kids looks great, and I look…meh. My nose veers off unbecomingly to the corner of the picture and my face is a fleshy orb. You may be wondering if you’ll see it. Oh yes you will-- early next week.

This blog is no stranger to unflattering pictures of me, and this one isn't terrible, just not my fave. It also has a twist that I hope you’ll see as kitschy and ironic. If not, you’ll just realize, if you haven't already, that we’re really big dorks. Until then, I’ll leave you with this from Awkward Family Photos. Enjoy!

Monday, December 7, 2009

Remember the $2.00 chair I got at the thrift shop, despite the fact that I have chairs coming out of my ears over here? Well, I liked the pretty blue color, but the fabric was badly stained and covered with cat hair. I was a little nervous about re-covering it because I've only done chair bottoms, not tops and bottoms.

When I took off the fabric, finding a gazillion staples in the process, I got a little nervous. I considered keeping the bright aqua vinyl I found underneath, but alas, it had rips in it, so I knew I must plunge forward.

With Tom's assistance and Molly's encouragement, I started folding, cutting, and stapling. There is no sewing in this household. I just kind of made a hospital bedsheet fold in the back, with lots of extra fabric, and stapled it all underneath the chair.

I wanted a funkier fabric, but settled on this brocade pattern because the price was right. Here is Tom pretending we're going to use duct tape on the chair. Well, we might have used a smidge, but it's not where you can see it!

Here's how we ended up:

Could someone please reach up into the above picture for me and move my coffee table over about 6 inches? Thanks.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

We haven’t bought our fresh Christmas tree yet. And now, with a beautiful snow falling outside, I think we’ll stay hunkered down and put off going to the tree lot until tomorrow.

A few days ago, Molly and I put up the Kids’ Tree. What started out as an homage to the tiny, magical tree my sister and I had on a table between our twin beds growing up, has turned into a 7 foot high artificial tree covered with the kids’ treasured ornaments.

I know the subject of a “Kids’ Tree” can spark serious and heated debate. I mean, is it to showcase their special things, or is it just a ploy by a control freak mom to keep pipe cleaner and felt creations off of the real, fancy tree? I would say for us, it’s a bit of both.

My mom was a florist and a great home decorator. When we kids finished trimming the tree and wandered off to do other things, Mom would get to work. She wouldn’t undo what we had done, but she would tie it all together. Strands of fake pearls or silver beads, white birds with ribbons in their mouths, tons of gold balls—she would find one way to unify the tree each year and make it the Best Tree Ever. Our kiddie creations were more than welcome there, but our trees always looked classy.

I mimicked her decorating style as an adult, and each year I’d have plenty of gold or silver balls, and as one boyfriend called them, “necklaces” on my trees. I was good at it, remembering to hang ornaments deep within the branches and never to skimp on the white lights.

What I hadn’t counted on was the sheer VOLUME of ornaments my kids would make and receive each year. My mother in law is a prolific supporter of Hallmark, so collectible ornaments abound. Combined with classroom crafts and our church’s Advent ornament workshop, the kids were hauling in about a ten new ornaments each per year. Do the math. My own contributions were personalized ornaments for each. Because I was traumatized as a kid when I couldn’t find anything with the name “Anna” on it (how times have changed!), I just can’t pass a “Molly” or “Jake” ornament up.

So, now we have the Kids’ Tree in the upstairs hallway, and the “Real” tree in the family room. I love how the upstairs tree is right in front of a window. In my book, that gets me off the hook for hanging exterior lights. The downstairs tree is more subdued with a lot of white, silver, and my decorative touches while the one upstairs is a riot of color.

I love the upstairs tree because I don’t try to control or “fix” it. I don’t move ornaments around. I don’t mind if there are New York Yankees ornaments, or Santas in Hawaiian shirts. We love going through the ornaments, remembering where each came from. A clothespin reindeer with one googly eye, a wooden apple from when I was a kid, Tom’s collection of Little Drummer Boys, Molly’s dough stars, and Jake’s golden macaroni picture frame. The tree itself is a little smooshed in the middle, or at least it appears so in this picture.

Some of the kids’ creations are on the tree downstairs, too. The most treasured are the Names of Jesus ornaments each child made in second grade. They are made out of paper, red yarn, and glitter, and they remind us why we are putting up the trees in the first place.

So, while our two trees sprang up out of the need for space for all these ornaments, they also allow me to keep some semblance of control over our home’s décor. This might not seem like a lot, but I feel as if I have so little control over the paper and clutter and dog hair that come into the house. It’s nice to have one tree look the way I’d like, and the kids love having a tree just for them

The staid silver balls and tasteful ribbons help ME enjoy our trees more, but it’s the quirky, one-of-a-kind ornaments that hold the most special memories for ALL of us. Nothing gets left out.

But those two molded plastic Mark McGuire ornaments my MIL got us in the 90’s? Whoopsie. I just couldn’t seem to locate them this year.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Without saying anything more about the whole scandal, I would like to mention that Tiger and Elin Woods are currently reviewing their pre-nup. Tom and I do not have a pre-nup because with my teaching school and his being in grad school, there wasn’t a whole lot to consider, finance-wise, and we figured, correctly, that we'd never be rich and famous. We did, however, go to a few hours of pre-marital counseling to discuss our wants/needs in marriage.

I must say that I have done swimmingly on this front. While they are sometimes cluttered , our counters are almost always clean. I wield my Method spray bottle as a woman on a mission to make the house smell like cucumber-melon and to keep my husband satisfied.

As he approaches his 40th birthday, Tom has begun to wonder if he really chose the best “Need” to head up his marriage list. He claims he didn't really understand the question. This morning he asked me if we could re-negotiate in light of this confusion and his upcoming milestone birthday.

I believe he was alluding to a different kind of need, perhaps in the Lovin’ department. Maybe he wanted to address frequency, such as amending it with, “on the occasion of a full lunar eclipse, not just a solar one.” Perhaps clean counters do not provide him the kind of satisfaction he once envisioned.

So I ask you, should I hold him to the original 1996 agreement of “Clean Counters,” or should I take pity on the guy and re-negotiate? Is this like being granted 3 wishes and then using one wish to ask for 3 more? Because I never really thought that was kosher.